


An Avengers Christmas Carol

by Canuck_Lex



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon timelines fiddled with, F/M, Fix-it Possibilities, Hurt Tony Stark, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Project Centipede (Marvel), Sokovia Accords, Tony Stark Has Issues, more tags and characters added as we go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-13 06:57:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16887774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canuck_Lex/pseuds/Canuck_Lex
Summary: Being a Ghost Story for Christmas.And bless us all, everyone....On Hiatus. We’ll try this again next Christmas.





	1. Begin at the Beginning

Phil Coulson was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by no less than the Director of SHIELD, his Deputy Director, the Chief Medical Officer on the Helicarrier, and Anthony Stark, the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist…and deep skeptic of anything Nicholas Fury had to tell him. He saw Coulson’s pale, still body lying in the SHIELD issued standard coffin, and he watched as they closed the lid.

“Satisfied, Stark?” snarked Fury.

Stark didn’t respond as he signed the burial register on behalf of the Avengers. He turned and stalked out to his latest luxury vehicle, driving back to Stark Tower in Manhattan as quickly as possible.

And if a tear or two was shed behind the tinted windows, there was no one (other than JARVIS) to betray that Tony Stark had a heart.

The mention of a heart brings me back to the point that I started from. There is no doubt that Coulson was dead. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate. If we were not perfectly convinced that…say…Jacob Marley…died before the story began, there would be nothing remarkable in showing up in his best friend’s chambers late at night, commenting on his terrible life choices, and then launching himself out the window to join a whirling hoard of…

 _Umm_.

Maybe we should get back to New York.

In the years following Phil Coulson’s death, the heroes who had fought in his name had stood fast against the evils that the world could throw at them.  A HYDRA infested SHIELD. Killer robots determined to destroy mankind. The odd super-person with a grudge against one (or all) of them. But they stood together until the day that the worlds’ governments decided to bring the Avengers to heel, and with them all powered and gifted peoples, with the thrice demned document known as the Sokavia Accords.

And the day that Captain America chose the Winter Soldier over Iron Man.

As Stark continued onwards, reconciling with Pepper Potts, and gaining a new apprentice in one Peter Parker, he always kept the sharp pain of the betrayal of those he once called friends. And he walled off, as best as he could, that portion of his heart which had once reached out beyond his inner circle (save for an annoying schoolboy or two).

As more and more was demanded of him, more and more did Stark shrink his focus inward. Inhumans? Not his problem. Watchdogs? Not his concern. The Director of SHIELD kidnapped, strange explosions in the Washington DC area? Call in the Feds. Tony had enough on his plate with what was already on there, and he did not care to look any further.

Especially not at strange men with large dogs in tropical locations.

Eventually, that Army General (Trout…Sturgeon…some sort of fish) stopped asking him for help, and the FBI knew not to darken his doorstep. Interpol never asked him to chase down a suspected bomber, CSIS never inquired him to help with an outbreak of gifted teenagers, MI-6 didn’t approach him about space portals appearing in the countryside. Even the Inhumans seemed to know him and stayed out of his way as far as possible to remain out of the non-existent mercies of Thaddeus Ross and the ATCU. 

“Better off on the streets and with the Watchdogs than in Stark’s cells on The Raft.” they told each other.

But what did Stark care! He had enough to concern himself with. He had long since stopped caring what the “average” person on the street thought about him. In fact, let them think he didn’t care. It kept the rif-raf off his back while he tried to ensure the safety of the entire planet. He wasn’t completely sure against what, but he knew, down in his very bones, that a threat was coming. So, he edged his way along the crowded paths of life, allowing only a few entrance into his inner sanctuary, and even fewer deeper still.

Stark had learned his lesson, and had taken it to heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, let me head things off at the pass. This story is not meant as either anti-Tony or anti-Steve. As in the original, motivations will become clearer as the story progresses.
> 
> I have thrown the MCU and AOS canon timeframe out the window for this. For general character placement and plot(ish), think of this around mid-S5 AOS and well after Civil War. 
> 
> (And finally, yes, Coulson didn’t die...but he sure flatlines a lot in S5...do keep that in mind?)


	2. Stark Industries

Once upon a time – and in this instance, one of the best days of the year, Christmas Eve, Tony Stark sat in the Stark Industries office. He would have much preferred to be in his lab, safely out of reach, but Pepper had told him he had to at least be seen as accessible a few days out of every month. And, she pointed out, eyebrow raised, they would have to get past security, 3 sets of administrative secretaries, each more intimidating than the last, and, most importantly, her before anyone actually ever sat foot in his office.

Besides, it was Christmas Eve. Who would come looking for him tonight?

Something tapped on his office window.

Stark sighed and unlatched it. A gangly teenager, muffled in dark clothing, a concealing hat jammed down over his forehead, flipped inside.

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Stark!” exclaimed Peter Parker.

“Christmas…yeah...sure…” Stark responded. “Didn’t I tell you to use the front entrance?”

“This way’s more fun,” Peter muttered, scanning the room. “No cookies? No brownies?”

He turned wide eyes towards Stark.

“Not even a candy bowl?”

“Cafeteria’s on the fifth floor, kid. Knock yourself out.”

“No thanks…”

Peter cast his gaze around the tasteful corporate holiday decoratings. It looked much different than the riot of red and green he had strewn around his home in Queens. Colder somehow.

“Look, Peter…what do you want?” Stark asked sharply. “I’m pretty busy.”

“On Christmas Eve?” Peter asked incredulously. “Doing what?”

“Stuff…grownup stuff.”

Peter rolled his eyes.

“I’m not twelve, Mr. Stark.”

Stark huffed, and pointedly focused his attention back on the contracts he had been ignoring until Peter showed up.

Peter shifted uneasily.

“I thought you’d be out celebrating, maybe with Ms. Potts somewhere.” he said quietly.

“Well, I’m not.” came the curt reply.

“Geez…” Peter flopped into an office chair across from Stark’s desk. “What’s eating you? It’s Christmas...”

“Yes, it’s Christmas. A time when the rest of the idiots of this world turn their eyes away from shadows that are threatening, that they let down their guard against what would tear them and their families to pieces.”

Peter’s jaw dropped at the bitterness in Stark’s voice.

“Peace, love, goodwill towards men…illusions that the rest of the world cherishes, or they wouldn’t be able to go on.”

Stark lifted his head and looked at Peter.

“I can’t afford illusions, Parker. And if you want to be an Avenger, neither can you.”

“Maybe I don’t…” said Peter slowly. “If it means that I have to give up the idea that there is good in everyone’s hearts. If Christmas isn’t the one time in the year that everyone tries to get together and love and take care of each other a little bit more. When family…”

Peter stopped suddenly. He swallowed hard.

“Mr. Stark, come have dinner with me and Aunt May tomorrow. You and Ms. Potts.”

Stark didn’t answer.

“It’s nothing fancy, just turkey and the usual. Aunt May makes this bar…”

“No. Thank you.”

“But why…”

“Parker…”

Stark looked up at the confusion and hurt in his protégé’s eyes.

“Stop trying. Like the story says. You keep Christmas in your way, and I’ll keep it in mine.”

Peter stood up.

“You mean let you forget all about it, then? Fine.”

He tossed a wrapped box on Stark’s desk.

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Stark.”

“Peter…” Stark called as the teenager stomped out the door. He sighed as the door closed behind him.

He picked up the box and examined it. He hadn’t gotten Parker a present, hadn’t thought of it. He’d drop a note to MIT, make sure the kid got that scholarship he had set up for him.

The door opened again. Stark sighed again, getting ready to smooth over some ruffled Spidey feathers.

He wasn’t expecting two younger adults slip in, a boy and a girl, the boy positioning himself at the girl’s back as if he was expecting an attack.

Interesting…Stark considered them for a moment.

“Now, how did you two get past security?”

The girl smirked. Stark could see the bravado in her eyes.

“That’s for us to know, Mr. Stark.”

Stark sat back in his chair easily. These two weren’t a threat to him. Truth be told, who they reminded him of was Wanda and…

He pointed at the door abruptly.

“Out!”

The girl paled, and the boy tensed.

“Please, Mr. Stark, it was only a miniaturized version of the cloaking on the ship.” 

Stark’s eyes narrowed.

”What ship?” he asked.

The boy looked over at the girl, who was shaking her head.

”Gotta tell him, Jemma.” he said quietly. “An updated Quinjet, Mr Stark. We’ve been working on it since...”

Stark held up his hand.

”Quinjet, that’s a SHIELD toy, isn’t it?”

They nodded.

”Right, the door’s behind you, you can let yourself out.”

”Mr. Stark...”

”If I remember correctly,” Stark responded, running a quick facial analysis, “SHIELD is currently disbanded. Again.” 

The warrants came up on his screen.

”That wasn’t our fault.” the boy huffed.

”Oh, really, Dr. Fitz. It wasn’t your fault that Director Jeffrey Mace died?”

It was a shot in the dark, but Leo Fitz went pale. The girl glared at him.

”No, it wasn’t.” she snapped. “But we don’t have time to explain.”

Stark lifted an eyebrow.

”I’m not in the habit of aiding felons, Dr. Simmons.”

”We’re not...Well, I mean we are, but...”

Jemma Simmons sighed in exasperation.

”5 minutes, Mr. Stark?”

Stark snook his head.

”Why should I even...”

Simmons took a case from Fitz, put in on his desk and opened it. Inside lay a vial.

”The last one of its kind.” Simmons said quietly. “It was called Centipede. We need to replicate it.”

Tony’s other eyebrow came up to join its fellow.

”Heard of it. Super strength, invulnerability,  can make users go kaboom...”

”Yeah, that’s the one.” confirmed Fitz. 

“And just why would SHIELD need something like that?” asked Stark.

The two looked at each other.

”Mixed with the...right...compound...” said Simmons slowly, “It can bring someone back from the dead.”

”Back from the...” Stark shook his head. “Got the wrong holiday, Agents. Last I checked, it was Christmas, not Halloween.”

”He’s not dead yet...” started Fitz.

“Who, exactly?” asked Stark.

”We can’t say...we’re under orders not to...”  

“Then, Doctors, I can’t help you. Whose orders?”

”Melinda May’s...”

”May.” Stark snorted. “More SHIELD. Feel free to leave at any point.”

Simmons looked like she was going to cry.

”Please, Mr. Stark, our time is very short. You are our last hope.”

Tony leaned back in his chair.

”Well,” he considered, “there’s the ATCU. Or the scientific personnel on the Raft...”

”Be bloody serious!” Fitz demanded, slapping the desk.

”Oh, but I am...I signed the Sokavia Accords, and those are the channels I go through these days.”

”We don’t have time to explain...”

”If they’d even believe us...”

”And C...” Simmons swallowed the name. “He’ll die if we can’t find a way...”

Stark shrugged.

”If he’s going to die, he’d better do it then, and decrease the surplus of ex-SHIELD people Ross will no doubt have me track in the New Year.”

As the two mouths in front of him hung open, Stark felt a sense of grim satisfaction.

”Besides,” he continued, “It’s none of my business.”

Fitz peered at him searchingly.

”It could be...” he said quietly.

Stark frowned.

”But it’s not. I’m very busy with my own, and I really don’t have time to recreate some horror story for SHIELD. And now...”

He nodded to the clock.

“Your time is up. If you’re still here in the next...”

”Don’t worry, Mr. Stark.” Simmon said quietly, defeated. “We’re done.” 

She picked the case off the table and handed it to Fitz, who glared at Stark.

”Merry Christmas.” she offered as they left.

As the door closed behind them, Stark smiled. He did enjoy putting people like these in their place. He got to work in a much better mood. 


End file.
